


just the same but brand new

by ndnickerson



Category: Nancy Drew - Carolyn Keene
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Mystery, Romance, Sex, Sexual Tension, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-15
Updated: 2011-06-15
Packaged: 2017-10-20 10:38:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/211887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nancy's on a case when she's led on an unexpected scavenger hunt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	just the same but brand new

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song by St Vincent. Written as part of the Nancy Drew Summerfest 2011 challenge at nancydrewfic.livejournal.com.

Nancy Drew stood on the corner, red-gold hair tucked under her hood, lost in thought. Despite what Hollywood would have her believe, Big Ben and the Thames weren't visible from every corner in London; in fact, the sky was low, a sullen glaring nickel color, and the city seemed to fade into it. Nancy pulled her jacket close around her. A string of black cabs filed by, sending up a spray against the curb, but she didn't see them.

A stronger gust of wind tugged a strand of her red-gold hair from under the hood, whipping it against her cheek. Nancy absently tucked it back in.

She had a day. Less than a day, in fact. Shannon was frantic, Colin wasn't even on the radar anymore, and Denis had no motive. Shannon was threatening to call off the show if Nancy couldn't figure out who was responsible for the threats and sabotage, but so far nothing had made sense. If Shannon cancelled the show now, all the positive publicity she had managed to capitalize on so far would vanish.

And Nancy was stuck, at a complete standstill. For a moment she considered going back to Shannon's office, comparing the notes, but she had already done that, over and over.

Nancy sighed, massaging the bridge of her nose. She needed someone to bounce ideas off, someone to serve as a sounding board, but Bess and George hadn't been able to come with her. And Ned— oh, she missed Ned so much she could actually feel it, a palpable ache in her chest. She had hugged him goodbye just before the security checkpoint at O'Hare a week ago, his fingers tangling in her long hair as he kissed her. She had been on her tiptoes, leaning into his embrace, her knees weak when he whispered into her ear that he would miss her every second she was gone, that she should hurry back soon. As soon as she had landed she had bought a prepaid mobile, but she and Ned had managed, through the time difference and their schedules, to have only a single, disappointingly brief conversation.

Nancy glanced down at her watch, her other hand on the phone in her coat pocket. A call from him would do wonders, and she wanted to hear his voice so much her fingers twitched against the phone in anticipation of its ring, but she sighed, taking a step toward the street. She needed to hail a cab and get back to her room, to find another way through this, another plan.

Just then her phone buzzed against her fingers. Nancy pulled it out of her pocket, expecting to see a text message from Shannon, a voicemail notification.

The number was local, but she didn't recognize it. She opened the text message.

 _D4. South. Sneaker._

Nancy stared at the message for a moment before she called the sender. The call went straight to generic voicemail. Nancy made a frustrated noise and ended the call, then responded with a text of her own.

 _Who is this? What does that mean?_

The first raindrop struck the pavement near her feet. Nancy put the phone away, her fingertips against it just in case it vibrated again.

Was it a break in the case, or another bluff, another stall? Maybe it was a wrong number.

On a hunch, Nancy glanced around. No Big Ben, no Thames, and no tube station visible. She closed her eyes and imagined the underground network she had spent most of the last week using, and took off.

Before she walked into the station, Nancy checked her phone. No new text, and her call went straight to voicemail again.

Just outside the attendant window, an underground map was posted. Nancy smiled when she saw the grid and index of all the stops. D4. Only one stop had the word "south" in it. "Sneaker" still didn't make any sense, but maybe it would once she got there.

At the South Kensington station, Nancy checked under the benches, through the exit tunnel, in the lobby. No sneaker. The air in the station felt gritty, oily, and she could feel it in her lungs, on her skin, inside her nose. Outside the rain had started, hard and cold, and when she saw it she felt hopeless all over again. She was surprised Shannon hadn't called her again, freaking out about the show.

She glanced at the map and headed through the other exit. Passengers were wearing sneakers. Sneaker as in someone who snuck? Maybe it was referring to her.

She saw a row of six flyers, all identical, just at the edge of the exit. A brightly-colored high-top sneaker dominated the flyer, advertising a local band competition.

On the sixth sneaker was a taped square of white paper. Nancy ripped the paper off and flipped it over.

A stylized M, part of a letterhead, was the only thing printed on the other side.

Nancy rubbed the paper between her fingers. Heavy paper, fine quality. She peered at it in the low light. No, not white, a subtle shade of off-white. The M was done in gold.

Was it a name? What? It looked familiar, though, somehow. She traced the letter with her finger, then slipped the paper into her pocket.

Absently she checked her cell again. No call. Nothing.

She brought the piece of paper to her nose and sniffed it.

Then she smiled.

Maison du Chocolat. One had just opened up in Chicago. She had been dying to try it ever since Bess had tried a sample and openly rhapsodized about it.

She stepped out, into the rain, and felt the weight of it on her coat, the sticky humidity through the seams of the fabric, insinuating into the lines of her flesh. Shielding her eyes with her hand, she glanced up the street. She thought she glimpsed a brown storefront.

Five minutes later the bell sounded above her as she shouldered open the door of Maison du Chocolat. A prim girl with slicked-back dark hair and heavily lashed eyes presided over the display case, and greeted Nancy with a half-smile when she walked in.

Then her eyes widened. "May I help you, miss?"

Nancy shrugged, sweeping her hood off, her hair tumbling down over her wet shoulders. "I don't know," she admitted.

"Might I ask your name?"

"Nancy."

The girl smiled. "I believe a sample might be in order."

She handed Nancy, very precisely, a shallow square of chocolate imprinted with a fleur-de-lis in a nest of tissue paper. Nancy pushed her cell phone into her jeans pocket and accepted the square.

There were no words to describe it. As the chocolate melted on her tongue Nancy's eyes closed and she relaxed, all the way down her spine. She couldn't taste any of the bitter, cheap aftertaste that marked lower quality chocolate. After a long, utterly glorious moment Nancy opened her eyes and saw the shopgirl grinning at her.

"It's lovely, isn't it?"

"It's amazing," Nancy agreed, fighting the urge to lick the tissue paper for any last crumbs.

The shopgirl bent down and lifted a small gold box to the counter. "These are for you."

"How much?"

The girl shook her head. "All paid for, Miss Drew."

She almost asked, but just shook her head and accepted the box. "Can I ask who paid?"

The girl shook her head again. "And, just in case you need it..."

She handed over a large black umbrella. Nancy smiled and slipped the box of chocolate into the offered bag and thanked the girl, then unfurled the umbrella near the door.

It felt like... well, she knew what it felt like. She just wondered if that was all.

A piece of paper was taped around the umbrella handle. Nancy smirked and unwrapped it.

Navajo. Of course.

Nancy turned back to the girl. "Do you know if there's an Internet cafe nearby?"

Fifteen minutes later, two less coins to her name, Nancy had a translation scrawled on the note. From the safety of the umbrella, which was incredibly sturdy, she studied the storefronts. At the corner she paused and pulled out her cell. No new messages.

She called up the text message and replied to it again. _The chocolates are amazing._

She didn't expect a response, and she didn't get one.

The coded message was the simplified name of a street, and the word purple. She walked down four blocks, the rain soaking into the cuffs of her coat and the hem of her pants, until she finally flagged down a cab.

Purple referred to an awning, an awning on what looked like a very exclusive clothing store. Nancy was unsure until she saw the fleur-de-lis pattern on the border. When she walked in, one of the salesgirls immediately began approaching, so unobtrusively that Nancy's guard immediately went up.

"Can I help you with anything?"

"Hi. My name's Nancy Drew," Nancy said, watching her to see if she showed any hint of recognition at her name. "And to be honest I don't know what I'm looking for, but I think probably a man was here earlier today. About... oh, a head taller than me, brown hair, brown eyes, devastatingly handsome."

The salesgirl half-smiled. "Please wait here a moment."

Nancy was glancing through a jewelry display when another salesgirl approached her, this one with gorgeous caramel-colored skin and an envelope in her hand. "I apologize, but can I ask to see some identification? I just..."

"It's all right," Nancy said, pulling her passport out of her pocket. "Will this work?"

The girl scrutinized it, then smiled and handed over the envelope. "Sorry to be so intrusive, but you'll see."

Nancy opened the envelope and pulled out a gift certificate entitling her to...

She mentally translated the amount into American dollars and her eyes widened.

"The man who left this here for me. Did he look at anything in particular?"

"Gowns and lingerie," the salesgirl admitted. "He asked what would best suit a strawberry blonde, so when I saw you..." She shrugged a little. "Would you like to see what he was shown?"

Nancy nodded. "Let's start in lingerie."

\--

"Miss Drew!"

Nancy had considered putting on what she'd bought before returning to her hotel, but she had decided against it. While the rain was starting to slack off a little, it was still miserable and grey out. She was still more than half convinced, though, that Ned would be waiting for her in her room. When the clerk called her, Nancy turned, bags in her hands, with a smile already on her face.

"The car will be here for you in an hour and a half."

"Thank you," Nancy said, her heart fluttering in her throat.

She keyed open her room and... found nothing. Her bed was made and the bathroom towels had been replenished, so the maid had been in, but it took her two seconds to search the room and Ned wasn't there. She hadn't ordered the car, though.

She checked her phone. No messages.

Well. She dumped the bags out on the bed and dug out her makeup bag and hair dryer.

An hour and twenty-five minutes later, she was in the lobby. She wore a white gown with a dramatic plunging neckline, a gown Ned had apparently asked the salesgirl about. The shoulders of the dress were such sheer illusion that the bodice appeared to cling to her like a miraculous second skin, embellished with layers of iridescent beads that shimmered whenever she moved. Her heels were high, to keep the hem of her dress out of the puddles, and her clutch bag was miniscule. So was the lingerie Ned had admired, the lingerie which was currently barely clinging to her curves, the swirls of white lace being warmed by her skin.

"Miss Drew?" The desk clerk smiled at her, indicating that her car had arrived.

All the time she was in the car, Nancy had to tamp down butterflies. What if she was wrong, and the man wasn't Ned? What if it was? She hadn't been this nervous before one of their dates since he had asked her to marry him.

At that thought she froze, staring straight ahead but not seeing anything before her.

By the time she stepped out of the car and stood in front of the restaurant, the driver conscientiously holding an umbrella over her in the mist, Nancy had almost mastered herself again. Even so, as she thanked the driver and walked into the restaurant, she couldn't stop herself from searching for him.

The crowd parted.

Once her gaze landed on him, she couldn't look anywhere else.

She knew it had only been a few days, but she had been so wrapped up in the case that it felt like a month since she had seen him. He wore a dark grey charcoal suit and a crisp shirt, and he was easily the most attractive man in the place. Then he saw her, and he smiled, but his eyes went wide when he let his gaze drift down.

 _Wow_ , he mouthed.

 _Wow yourself_ , she mouthed back.

It wasn't that she didn't see the square-jawed, classically handsome blond guy at the end of the bar, or the tall, immaculately dressed man loitering in the lobby area checking her out. It wasn't that she didn't realize that they looked amazing. It was that she simply didn't care. She tried to remember the last time she had been seriously, honestly attracted to another man during one of her cases - and she couldn't. It had to have been over a year ago.

A whole year ago.

Ned had asked her to marry him the year she was eighteen, and it had lingered since, an unacknowledged weight between them. Last year she had thought of it again, when he had taken her out for a pizza and mentioned that he was going apartment shopping, and wondered if she wanted to come with him. She had tried to play it off, saying he just wanted to sucker her into decorating, and he had said that of course he did, seeing as she would be there so often...

He had never come right out and asked if she wanted to move in with him. She had taken the key he had given her without trepidation; it was just a key, after all. But she had balked at the idea of living with him, waking up every morning to his face, sharing every aspect of her life with him.

And yet he hadn't given her an ultimatum, hadn't been hurt.

And she hadn't been attracted to any other man since.

He was grinning when he was close enough to touch. "You're amazing," she told him, wrapping her arms around him, letting out a little squeak when he lifted her off the ground in his hug.

"You liked it?"

"It was great." She pulled back to look into his face. "But _this_ is what I really needed. The rest was just extra."

"You look so incredibly gorgeous, Nan."

"You like?" She smiled. "I asked them what you'd looked at."

"Everything I'd looked at?"

"Maybe," she teased him, and kissed his cheek. "How did you come up with all this? I think the only thing you missed was a manicure."

"And a pedicure, and a facial, and a massage." He rested a hand just barely against the small of her back, guiding her through the restaurant. The walls were dark paneling, the light subtle and muted, and their table was in a semi-private area, near only a few others. Their chairs were next to each other, and he pulled hers out for her before settling into his own.

"So there was more on the agenda? Did I miss a clue?"

Ned shook his head. "After I went by the dress shop, well, let's just say my budget dwindled. And I have to admit something. I didn't come up with it on my own."

"Let me guess. Bess helped."

Ned shook his head, incredulous. "Yeah. How did you know?"

"Because I think you just gave me her perfect afternoon."

Ned frowned slightly. "Did you not like it?"

"I loved it," she reassured him. "It's just, Maison du Chocolat? She has been _raving_ about that place. The dress store? I think she probably would have cried."

"The codes were my idea."

"Very nice work, Nickerson."

The waitress arrived then. "Ahh, I see she finally arrived," she smiled. "What can I get you to start?"

"I'll have water."

"Flat or sparkling?"

"Flat, please."

"And for you, sir?"

"We'll take a bottle of red. What do you recommend?"

Once the waitress, thoroughly charmed by Ned, left with their orders, Ned turned to Nancy, a grave, serious expression on his face. She felt her stomach do a slow flip.

"So how's the case going?"

Nancy managed to recover with just a single nervous chuckle escaping her perfectly blush-pink lips. "Terrible, actually," she admitted.

Ned frowned. "So what's wrong?"

"Everything," she sighed, sitting back, smoothing her napkin over her lap.

He touched her hand. "So tell me about it."

The warmth of his touch traveled up her arm, leaving a trail of gooseflesh. "Shannon's show opens tomorrow. She's received four threatening notes, and one of the works she had on display in another gallery was slashed. Her house was broken into."

"Suspects? Motives?"

Nancy sat back and began ticking them off on her fingers. "Colin's her exboyfriend, also an artist, and their relationship ended badly but he's with someone else, and while he's also on display in the same show, he works in sculpture, not canvas. I've talked to him and my gut tells me he's not good for it. He has alibis. Denis is a former partner, but he's started another business and he couldn't plan a purse-snatching, much less all this." Nancy took a sip of her water. "The threatening notes were done in stencil, no fingerprints."

"No fingerprints at the break-in either?"

"Nope." Nancy shook her head.

"What are the threats?"

"Pull out of the show, or else."

Another waitress arrived with the bottle of wine, and Ned took a long sip of the offered sample and pronounced it good. Nancy took a glass and was flushed after her second sip.

Ned picked up his knife and tapped the heel once, soundlessly, against the table. "Is her work particularly good? Has she sold a lot?"

Nancy shook her head. "I mean, it's okay. I'd almost say it was avant-garde, but I've been through some of the trendier galleries around here, and... there's something missing. To be honest I'm surprised she got the space at the show."

"Who gets the space if she does pull out?"

"Danny Kimble, although he'll be in next month. I've talked to him. Very..." She waved her hand in the air. "Very mussed-hair, distant look in the eye, violent brushstrokes..."

"Very tortured artist. In other words."

"Easy on the eyes, too."

The knife tap against the table was audible now. "Oh."

"Yeah." Nancy half-smiled. "His boyfriend's not half bad, either."

"Oh." Ned let out a long breath. "Doesn't mean he didn't do it."

Nancy shrugged. "He didn't really care. He's working on the last one in his current set and he's excited about getting them all done in time."

"So what are the motivations?"

Nancy shrugged. "Someone who has a personal vendetta against Shannon or someone who wants her space at the show. Danny seems to legitimately not care—"

"Although that could be a front," Ned pointed out.

"—and Shannon only identified Denis and Colin as possible enemies."

"So there's someone out there she pissed off that she doesn't realize she pissed off."

Nancy saw suddenly, in her mind's eye, a pair of wild amber eyes, white fingers clawing at nothing. She shivered.

"What does Shannon lose if she drops out?"

"The prestige and recognition of being in a show."

"And if her art isn't that good, maybe someone just wants to keep her down and that's the whole point."

By the time their food arrived, they hadn't come to any new conclusions, but Nancy felt better. While she loved being with him, and the restaurant was lovely, her food rich and delicious, her dress and lingerie exquisite, knowing that she still had no good leads on the case kept her thinking about it, kept a knot in her stomach. She couldn't entirely enjoy herself like this.

But, as he fed her a bite from his plate, his lips pursed and his brown eyes alight on hers, that knot started to loosen. He had to have hoped she was finished, planned all this wishing that she would be free for it.

"Dessert?" the waitress asked, as she started to gather their plates.

Nancy shook her head, while Ned tilted his. "How's your chocolate cake?"

She smiled. "Very good."

Nancy lightly smacked his stomach, playfully, after the waitress left, and he groaned and clutched at it in mock agony. "You wound me!"

"You are _bottomless._ "

"Hey. The flight over here was exhausting. And planning a diverting afternoon for a gorgeous detective really takes it out of a guy."

Nancy smiled, then kissed him, sliding one arm up around his neck. He kissed her back and he tasted like wine and cream sauce.

The waitress brought Ned's slice of chocolate cake with two forks. Ned sliced off a bite, then paused.

"You really do look amazing tonight."

She smiled and glanced down. "And you're a sight for sore eyes," she told him.

He offered her the first bite of the cake and she took it, delicately, closing her eyes as she savored the taste of it. "No more," she protested when he offered another.

Ned popped it into his own mouth and cut off another bite that was twice as big. "I picked this place for a reason," he told her.

"Their amazing chocolate cake?" The butterflies were back in her stomach.

"No." He shook his head. "The amazing view. But I have got to finish this first. Wow. They really know their chocolate over here."

Nancy nodded. "That was amazing, by the way."

After they finished off the bottle of wine and Ned paid the bill, he escorted her, his hand lingering at the small of her back, to an old-fashioned elevator in the corner. He closed the accordion door and pressed the button for the upper floor, and as she felt his gaze linger on her dress, part of her wished for a wrap. Most of her, though, was basking in the affection and veiled intent behind his gaze.

And wondering who was behind the threats on Shannon.

And wondering exactly what she was going to see and what was going to happen when they stepped off the elevator.

The floor was converted, and looked like it had once housed a greenhouse. A few exotic-looking potted plants were fenced off in the corners. Above their heads, Nancy could see through the antique glass into the blue-black night. The panes were beaded from the rain, reflecting the tiny white lights strung at the ceiling, mimicking the invisible stars. In the faint light all she could see was the vague shift of bodies, fabric reflecting in the light, the glint of a man's teeth or a woman's earrings, swaying to the music.

"Wow," Nancy breathed.

"Yeah," Ned agreed, with a smile. "Nice, huh?"

She couldn't remember the last time they had danced, and if she had known, she would have chosen a different dress, but she accepted his offered hand and stepped out onto the floor, moving easily into his arms. Ned was warm, broad-shouldered, broad-chested, and she took a deep breath, smiling at the scent of his cologne, a deep, masculine smell. His cheek was smooth under her fingertips, and as their hips swayed together to the beat of the music, she felt his fingertips glide down the edge of the deep plunge back of her dress. She shivered, her breasts pressing tighter against his chest.

"Mmm," Ned murmured appreciatively, splaying his fingers over her back, down her spine.

She nodded and slipped her hands under his jacket, her fingertips tracing over the small of his back, through his shirt. Ned's answering shiver was centered in his hips, and Nancy closed her eyes.

"Are you still thinking about the case?"

"Yeah," she admitted, her breath warm against his earlobe. "Kinda."

"I would love to take your mind off it," he murmured, his voice a low, husky whisper. He brushed his lips against her throat. "But I have a feeling that's impossible."

"Not quite impossible." Their hips were swaying tight together and she felt that prickly wave of arousal begin to lap over her skin. "Difficult, very difficult, not impossible."

His fingers teased her, in feather-light brushes, up over her shoulder blades, the base of her neck, the indentation just at her hairline. He ran his hands up over the illusion sleeves, warm through the paper-thin fabric, and her skin tingled as he traced the backs of his fingers down, down, sliding at the last second away from her breasts, down her sides. She released a soft, almost imperceptible groan of frustration.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," she murmured. Dance floors, particularly dark, intimate dance floors, seemed to bring out the worst in them. To think, she had been half convinced he was going to get down on one knee and propose to her, not feel her up in front of a crowd.

But she wanted him. She wanted his mouth, his fingers, all his bare flesh, all of him, against her. That, more than anything else, was distracting her, and she had the sudden inspiration that if she dragged him to a broom closet and had her way with him, maybe she'd be able to think straight again.

Ned raised his head. Her eyes were half-lidded, and she swayed in his arms as she met his gaze.

"What if no one is jonesing for Shannon's space at the show and no one has a vendetta against her?"

Nancy blinked herself back to normal, stepping back slightly, away from the distraction of his warmth. "Then she's doing it."

"And what would she have to gain?"

Nancy glanced away from him, seeing and not seeing the rough stone fronted building across the street, the lights reflected in the window. "Her art's not that good. Police reports, newspaper stories. Notoriety. Publicity."

"And she called you in—"

"Because I'm not the cops and bringing me in brings its own notoriety and she thought she could fool me." She had stopped moving entirely, still gazing at nothing as she put the pieces together.

"So what happens tomorrow?"

Nancy shook her head. "If we're wrong? Something really bad. If we're right? She tries to top herself."

"By doing what?"

"Who knows, with her." Nancy finally glanced back up at Ned's face. "What wouldn't she do? Start a fire, hire someone to shoot at her, slash all her canvases?"

"So you get police presence at the show tomorrow. Between the three of us, we can figure this out."

Nancy nodded. "So you're in too?"

Ned smiled. "I'm in if you want me to be."

"Oh, I definitely want you to be."

He slipped his arms around her again. "So are you suitably distracted, or did I just make it a hundred times worse?"

She kissed him, slowly. "I think if you get me somewhere more comfortable I can answer that very clearly."

"Don't you mean _into_ something more comfortable?"

"Don't _you_?" She raised her eyebrows and burst into laughter at his minutely scandalized, mostly wolfish expression.

Even so, they stayed through the next song, a slow one. She slipped her arms around his neck and his hands almost, just, just barely grazed her ass as they swayed together. She closed her eyes and imagined him pinning her against the wall, teeth sliding over her neck, holding her joined hands over her head. She imagined him groping for the closings of her dress, letting it pool at her feet, imagined him shoving his hand between her legs and boosting her hips, stepping between her legs and pressing his hips up under hers, rubbing the bulge of his erection against her thin panties, all her weight centered on him.

She opened her eyes and she was wet, and when she kissed his earlobe he let out a soft shuddering sigh and his hand fell firmly on her ass, gently urging her closer to him.

"Nan," he growled, then slid his hands up higher.

"Yeah," she whispered, the faintest question in her voice.

In the cab they pointedly kept their hands off each other, and that somehow made it worse, the almost tidal longing she felt for him. Through the hotel's lobby they kept arm's width apart; in the elevator, she leaned against the wall and he stayed as far away from her as he could. By the time they made it to her floor she was almost running, and he was right behind her.

She didn't even have time to turn the lights on before he had gathered her into his arms and pinned her to the wall, his mouth hot and demanding on hers. She sighed happily and pulled his shirt up out of his pants, seeking the warmth of his bare skin, and he shivered closer when she touched him. He found the zipper at the back of her dress and pushed it down, then grasped the sleeves of her dress and slipped it down, their mouths still joined.

"Just— give me a sec," she mumbled, pulling back.

"For what," he said, his gaze sliding down her body.

"I bought something— for tonight, for you—"

"Later," he growled, sliding his arms around her again.

She had bought an adorable flyaway baby doll nightie, held in place only by a few loops of ribbon between the sheer bra cups, with a garter belt and lace-topped thigh-high stockings to match. But now she wore only the lingerie she had been wearing under her dress, a stiffly boned low-backed strapless bra and lacy white panties, not even a thong. Ned's fingers found the hooks at the back of her bra and he loosed them, and she let out a relieved sigh as the bra fell off, leaving her naked to the waist.

As he toed his shoes off she pushed his jacket off, swiftly unbuttoned his shirt, and kissed his adam's apple, his collarbone. He cupped her breasts, gently tweaked her nipples, and she pushed her hand into his dress pants and closed her fist around his cock.

He shifted, pushing forward, and released a breast so he could hastily unbutton his pants. "Feels so good," he whispered, kissing her neck, squeezing her breast as he shoved his pants and briefs down.

She pushed her shoulder blades against the wall and licked her palm, then grasped his cock again, watching in some amusement as he tilted his head back. Every square inch of her skin felt flushed with arousal, but it slowed to a simmer as she slid her fist up and down his cock, her gaze centered on his face. She had seen him naked in full light before. She'd take the sight of him in his bathing suit at the beach, bronzed and glowing and coiled like a whispered promise, any day of the week.

When Ned was on the balls of his feet, almost undulating over her, nuzzling against her neck, his breath warm against her earlobe as his hips pushed against her hand, she actually did let herself chuckle. He grasped her breasts and kneaded them, his breath stuttering, and she felt the tip of his cock with the brush of her pinky, felt that he was already wet with pre-cum.

She sank to her knees and grasped his hips, pulling him down with her. He was panting, and his cock brushed her shoulder as he followed. His mouth crushed to hers and his knee parted hers, and she released a soft groan as his knee bumped the join of her thighs, still in her panties. He pulled back and she slid her arms around his neck as he pulled his pants and briefs off, pulled his socks off so quickly that they flew into the darkness. She raked her nails gently down the back of his neck and he shivered as he came to her again, letting out a frustrated groan when he found her panties.

"Nan," he mumbled into her jaw, lifting her to straddle his lap. As soon as she had her legs wrapped around him he pushed up from his knees and pressed her against the wall, the rough lace of her panties tight against his cock. She shivered, letting out a soft, humorless chuckle as he rubbed against her.

"Hmm."

"Why are we on the floor."

"Dunno," she mumbled. "Thought about sucking you off but _damn_ I want you inside me."

"Tough choice," Ned chuckled. He inched her panties down so that her ass was bare, and she reached between them, running the backs of her fingers over the base of his cock. With a grunt he shoved his hips hard between hers, and she pushed her panties down even more.

"I'm going to rip those damn things off you if you don't take them off right now."

"I haven't even had them a day," she chastised him, struggling to her feet. She shoved her panties down as Ned stood, and when she was naked he slid an arm around her and tossed her easily onto the bed, and she laughed, grasping the headboard to keep from sliding off the other side as Ned bent over, palms flat on the bed, gaze heavy-lidded as he stared at her. He looked undeniably masculine, almost dangerously so, and her stomach flipped again as he crawled toward her.

She bent her knees and parted her legs slowly, watching and smiling when his gaze flicked down.

"Pill?"

She nodded, her hands sliding to her hips, kneading the skin there in anticipation.

He settled over her, parting her with his fingers, rubbing the length of his cock against her slick inner lips. She closed her eyes and arched, her mouth falling open, and he pushed her knees up as far as they would go, and then he moved and the tip of his cock brushed her clit on the stroke and she shuddered under him, her fists clenching in the sheet at her sides.

"I want you wet," he murmured into her cheek, nipping at her neck. "Wet and tight while you're riding me."

In answer she snaked her hand between them and cupped his balls, the cooler firm weight, then grasped the base of his cock and maneuvered it so that the tip was against her clit again. She squirmed her hips and released a low, liquid groan as she rubbed his cock against her clit, and he plucked at her nipples, harder and harder, until he was pinching them hard between thumb and forefinger. She let out a cry and he kissed her, hard, his hips surging, and she gasped against his mouth in shock, maneuvering against his cock again. She pushed the tip of his cock down, letting it slide over the folds of wet flesh until he was just inside her opening, then drew him back up again, shuddering when she felt the wet press of him against her clit.

"More," he demanded, sucking hard at her neck as he pushed his cock back down, just inside her, and found her clit with his thumb. She rocked against him, her inner flesh already clenching in anticipation of him as he slowly circled her clit with his thumb. Then he circled an arm around her back and lifted her, doubling his knees and sitting back, guiding her hips so that she was straddling him.

"You still want it? Baby, God, God I need you."

She tossed her hair out of her face and led his hand back between her thighs, then parted herself, angling her hips and his cock. When he brushed her clit, then straightened his legs, she groaned in frustration.

"Almost, God, Ned..."

She was so wet and he was so gloriously hard, and then he let out a choked moan, grabbing her ass. He gathered her into his arms and picked her up, glancing around the room, and she flicked the tip of her tongue over his earlobe, the point of his jaw, chuckling when he shivered against her. She squirmed her hips down so that the base of his cock and the rough hair there was against her clit, and Ned spanked her lightly.

"Did that mean stop, or don't stop?"

"Both," he muttered, and carried her across the room.

He perched her on the back of a sturdy armchair and their hips were perfectly level, and she slid her arms up around his neck again, bringing her knees up as he fitted his cock just between her thighs. He circled her clit one last time and she let out a soft cry, pushing her hips against him in response. "Don't stop," she begged, and when the chair wobbled under her she leaned back, supporting her weight by planting her palms on the arms of the chair, her breasts pale and loose in the dim light.

"Never," he said, and he pressed his thumb against her clit as he pushed forward in a long, savage thrust. His cock sheathed tight in the wet heat of her center and she circled her hips, shaking, her breasts trembling. He pulled back and thrust into her again, deeper, arching over her to gently nip at her left breast. He licked the tip of her other nipple and pulled back again, and she let her head fall back, her hair falling against the armchair as Ned drove his cock home inside her again.

She had no control, and she didn't want any, not with him like this, not with his thumb stroking her clit and his cock inside her, the wet sound of him sliding in and out of her, bare as he parted her. He let out a grunt of pleasure and her mouth dropped open. Her pants rose into soft cries as he ran his nail over her clit, and when he repeated it she shivered hard against him, pushing forward from her hands as she met and returned his thrust. His rhythm was agonizingly slow, but when she let herself cry a little louder, arching to present her flushed breasts to him, he touched her hips, splayed his fingers over the small of her back and led her hips to his, thrusting harder.

She sobbed his name, and when Ned grasped her hips with both hands she reached down and frantically rubbed her clit, letting out a low, breathless groan of pleasure. He trailed his fingertips up her back as he fucked her, brushing his thumb, still wet with her arousal, over her lips, and she flicked her thumbnail over her clit, her other hand gripping the armchair hard as she felt her orgasm just barely begin.

"Nan," he begged, the full length of his cock sheathed inside her. "Come, baby. Come for me. So wet, you feel so fucking good, baby, I love you so much."

She screamed as her orgasm peaked, flushed and trembling, hearing the wet suck of her inner flesh against his cock, the rough stroke of his thick length against her sensitive flesh, and when her fingers stilled he took over and she cried out again, louder, with every single stroke of his thumb over her clit. She pushed forward and the armchair tipped, and Ned fell back to a sitting position on the other bed, and she straddled him, impaled on the length of his cock, his thumb still working between her legs.

She sat up on her knees and did a swift split, crying out in delight as she took him inside her, and she writhed her hips against his, undulating over him, riding him hard, harder. She was slick with sweat and her hair stuck to her cheeks when it touched and Ned's hips jerked up under hers, driving his cock deeper. His other hand grasped for purchase over her skin, closing hard over her breast, and when he let out a low, guttural cry and she felt him pulse inside her, she closed her eyes. His thumb circled her clit again and she screamed, tossing her head back, falling in one smooth thrust until his entire length was sheathed snug between her legs.

"Fuck," Ned panted, and fell back against the bed. His thumb twitched against her clit and she circled her hips again, the wet, prickly satisfaction of her orgasm still throbbing weakly between her thighs.

"Yeah," she agreed, and did a slow collapse to his chest, bare breasts pressed against him, his cock still inside her. "Oh my God yeah."

"I have been... oh, God, I've been hard for you since you left." He ran his hand over her hair, kissed her forehead.

"And I have been _dying_ for that," she told him, and kissed his collarbone.

His hand drifted down her back, the slick curve of her spine, and she shivered, then pushed herself up, grimacing as she lifted herself off him. He rolled onto his side and she followed, sliding one leg over his hips.

Her breath was almost back to normal when he leaned down and kissed her, slowly, languidly. She ran her fingers through his hair and tipped her chin up, and when his hand drifted down to her breast again she chuckled.

"It's almost flattering, how you literally cannot keep your hands off me."

" _Almost_ flattering?" Ned brushed a lock of hair off her cheek. She could just see his brown eyes in the darkness, glowing as his gaze met hers.

"Ned?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course you can."

Nancy tightened her leg, pulling his hips close to hers, and kissed him, her heart rising when he wrapped his arm around her, his tongue in her mouth. When he broke the kiss she brushed her lips over his chin, his adam's apple, the base of his throat.

"I... was wondering..."

"Yeah?" he prompted, when she trailed off.

She sighed and started over. "I have missed you so much," she said, pulling back to gaze up into his eyes. "I've missed being able to talk over the case with you, I've missed being with you, just _being_ with you, and I've missed..." She flipped her hand in a slow curve of a gesture and shrugged a little, and Ned chuckled, nudging his hips against hers.

"Me too."

"I don't know if you... if you feel this way, if you want, but maybe, sometime... soonish... maybe we could move in together."

Ned grinned. "Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, if you want."

"You mean if I want... this? Like, all the time?"

"We won't just be having sex," she laughed, lightly smacking his shoulder. "Cooking and cleaning and watching TV and sleeping. Having friends over and playing cards and going over case notes. _And_ having sex."

"And you can wear... whatever it was you wanted to put on earlier." He kissed her lightly. "And complain when I want to watch the game, and..." His smile slipped. "And come in at three a.m. smelling like chloroform."

"And you'll be there to demand that I go to the doctor, to make me go to sleep..."

He trailed his fingertips down her side. "I'm not your dad," he said softly. Then he chuckled. "Which is good, considering. But I don't want to be your dad. All I want is for you to listen to me. Because I love you, Nan. And all I want is for you to be happy. And safe. And... naked a lot of the time wouldn't be too bad either."

Nancy laughed and kissed him. "Well, if that's the house rule, then we also have to go to the beach at least twice a month every summer."

"Oh?"

"Because you look _damn_ fine in a swimsuit."

"And now?"

When she waited too long to respond he rolled on top of her, tickling her, and she screamed with laughter, writhing under him. "Stop, stop! Please! Uncle!"

He pinned her hands up over her head and she brought her knee up and they stopped, gasping their breath back, gazing at each other.

"So."

"So," Ned murmured. "Yeah, Nan. I would love to move in with you. And, since you already have a key to my place..."

She grinned and he kissed her, gently.

She made a face when he pulled back. "But we'll need a room for all your sports stuff and a room for me to put all my files in and..."

"And we'll figure it out," he interrupted, leaning down to kiss her again.


End file.
